Up in the Air: a brief commentary.

This isn't a review as much as a commentary on Up in the Air, which addresses the classic dichotomous ideals of the American male.

The self-sufficient, independent male is an archetype that has reigned in cinema through stars ranging from Bogart to Wayne to Eastwood, and now to George Clooney, who has previously embodied versions of that persona in numerous movies including Out of Sight and Michael Clayton. He reprises elements of those roles in role in Up in the Air*, as his Ryan Bingham can live on the road 320 days a year, eschewing his spartan one-bedroom apartment for a cavalcade of keycards. There's an allure to this lifestyle. Isolation would be an easy and enjoyable choice, void of much of the world's pain and suffering.

*This familiarity doesn't mean that his performance isn't noteworthy. I would argue that it makes his turn all the more impressive, as he uses subtle facial expressions to brilliantly express emotions in ways beyond the capacity of mere words.

Isolation might be easier, and such a persona may be ideal in theory. But that doesn't mean it's better, and like Communism, it doesn't usually work in practice. Up in the Air explores this, as Bingham churns through the inevitable sequence of attitude-adjusting events. He eventually realizes that to some extent, everyone needs someone. If even the callous scribes of Hollywood admit this, musn't it be true?

Like the countless movies with this formula, Up in the Air doesn't necessarily have a life-altering happy ending, but the film also features introspective realizations that life is more than just oneself.

Maybe that's the ultimate lesson. The lasseiz-faire attitude is an idealistic veneer, one that can even be functional for a while and might be necessary at times. But in the end, a man needs more than himself. He needs others. He needs God.

Where Men Win Glory.

Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman is a fascinating account of Pat Tillman's life and death, along with the inexplicably bad decisions made by the military/government before and after. Tillman was filled with a contagious verve, and though he didn't appear to find the right path, his thirst for life and knowledge can be an example for everyone.

If you want a short version of the book, Gary Smith's superb article in Sports Illustrated captures Tillman's remarkable essence and impact admirably well.

Avatar. Wow.

At their best, movies are an escape, an opportunity to experience times and places disparate from one's own life. These adventures can take the audience to a nearby country, or maybe a different era, or even just plant them among a different class of people. Plenty of classics like The Godfather and Casablanca excel by atmospherically yanking the viewer into a world not wholly unfamiliar at the time, then adding a resonant story involving grand and powerful themes.

Good fantasy movies have an inherent ability to enrapture like nothing else, because they create entirely new worlds often set in entirely different times, novelties that are best understood and experienced by fulling giving oneself to the story. Plenty of fantasy movies have failed miserably, and all the money in the world doesn't guarantee that the effects and images will enthrall audiences (The Phantom Menace). When done well however, fantasy is not only for geeks, but for any open-minded person willing to spend a couple hours in a new place. In Avatar, that new place is Pandora, a distant Earth-like moon where humans involved with both science and the military are attempting to learn more about its unique inhabitants and possibilities.

Director/producer James Cameron escalates the built-in fantasy advantage by adding the element of 3-D, which has been used in many movies, but rarely with much success. My goodness, does Cameron ever know how to use 3-D. From the opening shot, one realizes that this is no ordinary film. As the movie continues, the camera maneuvers deftly around rooms, rustles through the brush, floats amidst the trees, and soars between mountains. When used well, good camera movement adds a strong dynamic to traditional shots. Cameron goes beyond that, presenting breath-taking new angles with enhanced perspectives that reach out and envelope the viewer in stunning fashion. There's probably something about wearing 3-D glasses that subconsciously adds to the experience as well. I have never felt as physically connected with a movie.

Words can scarcely describe how enrapturing the visuals are. Their power cannot be overstated. I spent half the movie gasping, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the countless Did-You-See-That! moments. For most of the drive home, I was shaking my head, in awe of the entirely new world on the planet Pandora. It was like watching the documentary series Planet Earth, but in three dimensions and (believe it or not) with better imagery. Movies often trumpet that they are unlike anything you've ever seen, but Avatar can justifiably say precisely that.

I can count my transcendent cinematic experiences on one hand. By transcendent experience, I mean more than just a great movie. I mean an engrossing movie that thrills the senses. Something so atmospheric that it seems to engage more than merely eyes and ears. Avatar joins the list, as its three dimensions create an almost tactile experience amidst the beautiful flora and fauna of Pandora. Perhaps the greatest compliment is this: the political and environmental subtext is fairly obvious and potentially irksome, but I was so immersed in the spectacular world that I didn't care. That's how I knew Avatar had me.

Overshadowed by the remarkable look and feel of the film is the less groundbreaking story. In one sense, calling it a weakness is an overstatement, because the narrative does its job. It provides a framework to supports the stunning visuals, by tweaking familiar arcs enough to keep them fresh. On the other hand, the story is laced with great themes of love and sacrifice, but lacks the powerful ancillary ideas that might have pushed the film to a more exclusive stratosphere. If the unprecedented visuals were buttressed by a better story, Avatar might have been on an extremely short list of all-time greats. Or perhaps such a potent narrative mind have distracted from the eye-popping pictures. Either way, a week after seeing the film, the unforgettable world lingers and resonates far more than the story.

Bottom Line: I've seen better movies in my life, but I've never had a better cinematic experience than Avatar in IMAX 3-D. 9.5 out of 10.

(500) Days of Summer.

(500) Days of Summer is not a typical indie romantic comedy. As the poster accurately states, this is not a love story, it's a story about love, which makes for a unique movie experience, through both content and manner of storytelling.

The movie traces 500 days of the relationship between Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and Summer (Zooey Deschanel), but does so in an nontraditional way, bouncing from point-to-point in their romance by use of a scene-opening counter, which displays the day and stage of the relationship. The non-linear method of storytelling is a tool that provides the movie with a layer of poignancy absent from most romantic comedies.

The movie effectively captures the various moments of life and love: the highs, the lows, and the in-betweens. By leaping back-and-forth through time, these snapshots are uniquely juxtaposed in a way that keeps your emotions on a yo-yo, yanking you back to a happy moment when things look bleak, and reminding you of what is and could be ahead when all seems perfect. This shunning of the usual smooth story arc is disorienting initially, as you try to mentally collect and sort the pieces you have seen. But you soon relax, realizing that the flow of events is self-explanatory enough that the precise order is not necessary.

Given the unusual nature of events, which provide the movie with a slight fairy tale feel, a few other filmmaking twists are also used effectively. The movie occasionally breaks from reality, sticking in a song-and-dance number to joyously show the excitement of new love, and a brilliant use of split-screen that simultaneously shows expectations and reality much better than any after-the-fact dialogue could have done. In a straightforward movie, these techniques would have been jarringly out of place, but since the primary method of storytelling is already off the wall, these even zanier choices feel no more unusual, adding to the freshness of the tale.

The movie is much more than cinematic gimmickry, due to the likability of the two lead actors. Gordon-Levitt continues to grow wonderfully as an actor, bringing to the role a youthful maturity often missing in similar films. Deschanel is excellent as always, with her wide-eyed quirkiness that perfectly fits Summer's perspective on love. The two have the precise amount of chemistry for the relationship, nailing the distance or lack thereof at every point along the way, and their infectious exuberance keeps the viewer interested throughout.

(500) Days of Summer is in no ways a typical movie, either in story or method. In this way, it accurately and beautifully mirrors the roller coasters of life and love. Life is not perfect. A love story doesn't always unfold in three acts. Everybody doesn't necessarily live happily ever after. That does not mean imperfect experiences are not worthwhile. The ability to reflect and learn from the past is part of what makes us human, and this film is a first-class exhibit of that aspect of humanity.

Bottom Line: A refreshingly creative change-of-pace that accurately reflects the tumultuous vagaries of life and love. 8/10.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

When I see and review movies that are adapted from books I've read, I try not to get wrapped up in the similarities and differences, because I think doing so can ruin the cinematic experience by distracting from the movie, which often must tweak the story to translate it to the big screen. Having said that, this review is a bit of an exception, because many of the weaknesses of the movie are precisely the strengths of the book. That may not be entirely fair to the movie, but so be it...

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (HPHBP) is the story of Year Six at Hogwarts, where our trio of heroes returns to school as a strengthening Lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters begin to wreak havoc on both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

Getting right to the point, the movie's primary problem is that nothing drives the story. The book is propelled by three main questions: What is Draco up to? Who is this Half-Blood Prince whose book Harry possesses? Why is Dumbledore showing Harry the various memories? These three interwoven storylines, combined with a side of romance, effortlessly carry the book through its 700+ pages, sprinting to the finish in an absurdly entertaining final five chapters. But the movie mishandles these three major questions and fails to carry much of this palpable drama to the screen.

In the movie, the answer to the first question is made apparent to the viewer early in the movie. The main characters don't learn the answer, but the audience does, an odd cinematic choice that deprives the narrative of its usual protagonist-based power. The second question is a continuing arc that is given short shrift throughout, to the extent that when the riddle is answered in the final moments, it's merely an "Oh."-inducing throwaway line rather than a "Wow!"-inducing culmination of 2+ hours of mystery. The final question does move the movie along somewhat, but the numerous omitted memories rob Voldemort of his explanatory traits, as well as Dumbledore of his motives. Voldemort thus feels like a typical two-dimensional villain rather than the vortex of evil he ought to be, and Dumbledore seems to be more of an uncertain guide instead of a presciently powerful wizard. As for the romance angle, those scenes are executed well enough, including a few poignant teen moments, but neither one of the potential pairings seems fully fleshed out. They don't necessarily feel wrong, but they do feel inadequately supported.

On the bright side, the highlight of the HPHBP is undoubtedly its not-so-bright look. With its washed-out appearance that borders on black-and-white at times, this colder version of Hogwarts is an appropriately stark contrast to the warm and cheery home portrayed in the first two films. But aside from the look, which accurately expresses what the tone ought to be, given the lurking evil, the tone itself doesn't match.

The best part of Order of the Phoenix was the way that director David Yates captured the spirit of the book, effectively displaying the magical and dangerous wizarding world yet also taking time to show smaller moments of laughter and friendship, which were to be treasured as the dark times approached. Yates is not nearly as effective in HPHBP. The vivacity is largely absent, and while some of that is understandable due to the nature of the events, it's still a world of magic. Too often the movie seems to forget that. I will say that the cave scene in the final act is quite magical and quite good, though still a bit rushed. Finally at that point the movie seems to have a purpose, even if it isn't entirely clear what that purpose is.

Without the aforementioned compelling story arcs or the brisk pace of OOTP, the film meanders throughout, running in place for two and a half hours and failing to build momentum as the narrative leaps between arcs, as though not sure where to go while killing time until the climactic final movies. Despite this, the 150 minutes rarely seem to drag, which speaks to the potency of the source material and the attachment that book readers have to the characters.

In the end, the movie's focus is shallow and wide, rather than deep and narrow, leaving the entire work feeling weak, like there wasn't enough of everything. The danger never felt real enough. Dumbledore wasn't confident or wise enough. Harry wasn't eager enough to figure out where Dumbledore was leading him. And a certain late scene, which is the most jaw-dropping in the entire seven-book series, is shockingly underplayed. The result is an experience that satisfies marginally, leaving this Potter fan disappointingly underwhelmed.

(Though I haven't spoken to anyone who has seen the movie without reading the book, I suspect that those people would enjoy the movie less, not entirely understanding many parts and being confused by multiple short scenes that seem included merely to satisfy fans.)

Bottom Line: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is the penultimate book, with a superb story that aggressively drives toward the inevitable showdown between good and evil. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is also the antepenultimate movie, with a weakened story that gradually wanders toward a lukewarm conclusion. 6 of 10, only that high because I already had the true power of the story ingrained in my head.

P.S. I'm slightly terrified that David Yates is also directing the last two movies. I hope he doesn't ruin them.

P.P.S. Why wasn't Felix Felicis gold in color? I don't understand why moviemakers screw up simple-yet-obvious things like that.

Indiana Jones and the...huh?!?

Less free time means fewer movies seen and shorter reviews, but I finally saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and I wasn't missing much.

Given the pedigree and talent of the cast and crew, along with the massive familiarity of the audience with the series, making an awful Indiana Jones movie would be difficult. But Steven Spielberg and company nearly accomplish the task, relying solely on past magic to carry the picture.

The first hour of the movie is decent, with the introduction of a couple marginally interesting characters, played well enough by Cate Blanchett and Shia LeBeouf, and the usual series of globe-trotting adventures. But as a microcosm of the entire movie's problems (aliens?), the centerpiece action sequence starts well before taking a couple bizarrely ill-fitting turns (monkeys?!?) that overshadow the little quality that is present in the movie.

The primary thing that makes the movie worth watching is the familiarity with the title character, and the ease with which Harrison Ford returns to the role. Indiana Jones is an all-time great cinematic character, and Ford nails the part again. Even at his age, he is a joy to watch in this flick.

If the last act of this movie were in a Indy-knockoff like National Treasure or Tomb Raider, it would have been laughed out of the theater. In this setting, it doesn't fit either, but the established familiarity grants the movie enough leeway to make it worth a rental.

Bottom Line: 2 of 5 for quality, 3 of 5 for enjoyability. 5 of 10 for a mediocre move that lives on past accomplishments.

Paul Newman, 1925-2008.

Not to be overlooked amidst all the election and bailout coverage, Paul Newman passed away this weekend. In my mind, he was the 2nd-most iconic actor of his generation, trailing only Clint Eastwood, despite the fact that I've only seen five of Newman's two dozen or so films, and only three from his prime. That alone speaks volumes about his cinematic presence and abilities. In addition to The Sting (an underrated Best Picture winner, if that's possible) and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (one of the first and best buddy flicks), the other classic Newman movie I have seen is The Hustler, the best parts of which still resonate with me three years later. Here's my original review...

The Hustler is a classic 1961 film about the shady pool halls of the post-WWII era. Anyone of the three main characters could fill the titular role, whether it be Paul Newman's up-and-comer, Jackie Gleason's man-to-beat, or George C. Scott's behind-the-scenes angle-shooter.

These three stars (all-Oscar nominated) carry the picture, both individually and collectively. The thirty-ish Newman is simply a revelation to anyone (me) who hasn't seen him act much in his prime. He perfectly captures the smooth, in control but on the edge persona of Fast Eddie, who has the physical tools, but not necessarily the mental skills to be a champion. Gleason likewise perfectly fills the body and clothes of Minnesota Fats, with a graceful elegance uncommon to a man of his size. Scott (who declined his Oscar nomination) could easily have been overshadowed in his role, but his subtle and shifty eyes and movements create a character that occasionally outshines his two huge co-stars.

The Hustler reaches its zeniths when at least two of these men are on the screen. The dialogue exchanges of Newman and Scott as they feel each other out crackle with intensity. Gleason and Scott ooze wary respect for each other; and Newman and Gleason combine admiration and competitiveness into one neat package from which the entire film derives its energy.

A film about pool sharks seems to demand brilliant representation of its colorful world. But French cinematographer Eugene Shuftan instead opts for black-and-white, which surprisingly works wonderfully. His Oscar-winning imagery particularly excels in displaying light and shadows, such as the sun streaming into smoke-filled billiards halls. Shuftan accomplishes an exceptional feat, using a monotone style to effectively paint vivid pictures.

Despite high achievement in so many areas, The Hustler suffers from Doughnut Syndrome: there's a hole in the middle. The pool scenes that bracket the story are very good, and one middle scene between Newman and Scott is the best of the film, but the romantic portion of the story flounders. The drifter Newman falls for a fellow drifter (Piper Laurie) for no apparent reason, other than alcohol and the fact that they're both alone. To their credit, they do acknowledge that their relationship is flimsy and depraved, but the movie squanders too much times on this wafer-thin story arc, rather than stick with what works.

Those parts succeed wildly, about as enjoyable as any scenes ever shot, but without adequate buttressing material, the film as a whole falls short of the high watermark left by its parts.

Bottom Line: Phenomenal at times, but subpar at others, the male performances carry the film. Seven of ten, but definitely worth viewing if you haven't seen it yet.

Edit: In my memory, I'd bump this up a notch, because parts were off-the-charts good. But I don't recall the weaker portions, which means they were probably as mediocre as I originally thought.